Midsummer Knight
by Poecilotheria
Summary: After the fall of Nightmare, Dedede has grown ever more surly without his favorite source of mayhem. Unfortunately, Escargon takes the brunt of his abuse, and he isn't sure how much more he can take. Luckily for him, he finds solace in the least likely person imaginable: the ever enigmatic Meta Knight.


Escargon sat hunched on a bench in the courtyard, face in his hands. His majesty had landed a particularly painful blow to the man's skull, but that was far from the most excruciating injury. No, the worst injury was to his pride. A spike of anxiety hit as he recalled the king's expression, all anger and derision. Dedede was always a little rough around the edges but lately the man had been downright cruel to the person he'd once called his best friend. Escargon shuddered and rubbed his hands up and down his thin arms. He was so wrapped up in his misery that he didn't notice the sharp clack of boots on the cobblestone.

"Sir? Are you unwell?" the smooth, deep voice took a few seconds to sink in. He looked up to see two golden eyes staring out from behind a distinct visor. Escargon sighed, slipping a hand under his glasses to rub at his eyes.

"I'm fine, Sir Meta Knight. Run along and go do whatever it is you get up to," Escargon grumbled, cracking one eye open to see the other's reaction. Meta only tilted his head slightly, fixing him in his signature unblinking gaze. He then sat himself beside Escargon, his movements fluid and measured. Meta crossed his legs, and folded his hands atop his thigh before turned to face the other man.

"I am no fool. Something is troubling you, and it is best for such thoughts to be on your tongue rather than on your mind," he said. Escargon straightened himself up slightly, giving Meta a narrow-eyed look of suspicion.

"What do you care? I don't think you even know how to show emotion," he sneered. Meta closed his eyes, causing his visor to become unnervingly blank.

"Perhaps I'm unaware of how to show them, but I do feel them." He opened his eyes again, serpentine pupils set against his faintly glowing irises. "And one such emotion I am certainly capable of is sympathy."

"Why?" Escargon blurted out before he could stop himself. There was the faintest spark of green deep with Meta's eyes.

"Why not? Do you think yourself unworthy of such things?" Meta intoned. Even Escargon had to admit that his soft, even tone was very relaxing to listen to.

"Don't play psychologist with me. What I meant was why you of all people would care," he huffed. Meta's eyes widened slightly, and Escargon found himself wishing he could see more of his face. Maybe then he would have a snowball's chance in hell of reading him.

"I dislike watching others endure mistreatment, no matter where their loyalties lie," Meta responded. Escargon bristled.

"I don't need your pity! I can handle myself!" he snarled, patting his chest in emphasis. Meta held his gloved hands before him in a pacifying manner.

"I am merely suggesting that I am available for you to speak to, should you find it necessary," he amended. Escargon gave him another long suspicious look, before allowing the tension out of his frame. He leaned back and folded his arms, allowing silence to fall between the two men.

"I'd just like some appreciation, you know?" Meta turned towards the other, a softer look in his eyes. "I'm the evil genius bit of the equation; he couldn't do anything without me! I haggle over his stupid debts all day and then he ignores me and buys another useless demon beast!" Escargon ranted, spitting venom with every word.

"Of course. The brawn is nothing without the brain," Meta soothed _. If only you would put that_ _mind to better uses_ , he added mentally. Escargon gave him a long look, something unreadable in his eyes.

"…Are you trying to butter me up or something? What do you want?" he snapped. There was a distinct flash of irritation in Meta's eyes.

"You truly aren't easy to show any measure of sympathy towards, are you? Can I not be worried for a coworker?" he said. Escargon almost felt a twinge of guilt at Meta's apparently genuinely hurt tone, but he quickly stifled such a notion.

"Whatever traitorous activities you're up to this time, I won't be helping you!" he tried to stand, but found himself held down by a gloved hand on his shoulder. Damn, Meta was certainly strong for such a small guy.

"I come to comfort you and you question my loyalties?" Escargon flinched. The other man's tone was low and dangerous, and it took a moment to process the words.

"You came to comfort me?" Escargon asked incredulously. Meta blinked and withdrew his hand, absently tapping on the metal plating of his glove.

"You seemed exceedingly upset. And no one else seemed concerned in the slightest so…" he trailed off, thinking over his next words. "Comfort is a difficult thing to ask for. I suppose I assumed that you would find it easier to have it offered to you?"

"Right," Escargon said flatly. Meta's tapping ceased, and he stiffened.

"I apologize for being so presumptuous. I will take my leave," he murmured, thoroughly embarrassed.

"No, I mean… I just didn't expect you of all people to care, you know?" Meta gave him a reproachful look.

"I am not as cold as others believe me to be," he huffed.

"It'd help if you took that helmet off once in a while," Escargon offered.

"Perhaps I should just take a direct approach. How would you like to be comforted?" Meta asked, completely ignoring Escargon's statement. He paused, thinking carefully. What exactly would help his awful mood?

"A hug?" His words came out of his mouth before his thoughts could fully organize themselves. Meta seemed just as surprised as he did.

"Ah, so you need physical comfort? I am not very proficient at such things, but I accept your request." The two sat in silence, staring one another down with awkward intensity. Meta then reached out and stiffly patted Escargon on the shoulder. He withdrew his hand and returned to unblinkingly staring Escargon down.

"Um?" Escargon questioned.

"I do not feel entirely comfortable with the degree of physical contact you requested, so I have offered what I am capable of," he explained, still staring, "Do you feel comforted?"

"…sure," Escargon answered, not wanting to push the matter. Meta nodded, his eyes brightening slightly.

"Excellent. I am glad that I was capable of alleviating at least a portion of your worries despite my limitations," he said. Escargon gave him a flat look, wondering if the man truly missed his sarcasm or if he was perhaps being facetious himself. He quickly decided on the former.

"I appreciate you trying I guess," he sighed.

"…if you were truly so deeply unsatisfied you could have raised a complaint earlier," Meta hissed, his relaxed and jovial demeanor vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

"Look, I really do appreciate it, even though you are totally inept at emotions," Escargon said quickly.

"Ah, of course. I behave differently than you, so I must be some unevolved ingrate. Well, I cannot say that I did not expect you to display your rampant superiority complex, but I am still somehow disappointed," Meta growled, standing from the bench. Escargon reached out towards him.

"Look, I, uh, didn't mean it?" he said lamely.

"Do not speak to me," Meta snapped back, striding out of the courtyard. Escargon sighed and lowered his head into his hands. What a waste of a chance to ally himself with one of the more fearsome castle residents. There was also a sharp pang of guilt over so rudely spurning a man who merely wanted to help. He stayed there on the bench with his thoughts for a few more minutes before standing and stalking off to his room.

It was only later that day, as he lay sleepless in his bed, that he realized what he had to do to calm the sickening feeling in his gut. He had to apologize, and the very thought made his throat tense up and caused a scowl to stretch across his face.

"You're only doing it for yourself," he muttered to himself, trying to preemptively chase the shame away. It would only be to alleviate his own guilt, and then he could avoid the strange knight. He nodded to himself, desperately ignoring the tiny part of him that felt genuinely awful about his behavior.

 _(I will ship Meta with everyone and you can't stop me)_


End file.
